Just her luck
by Feathers from Orion
Summary: In which no one knows where Steve is, Natasha's giving birth, Clint is freaking out and Phil is too damn calm. Rated T for mentions of sex and lots of swearing. One shot.


AN/ Disclaimer: Hi all! This is a little piece of Natasha x Steve fluff (of a sort). I do not own Marvel, Disney, or the Avengers Universe. But I do own the Avengers on DVD AND Blu-ray. Reviews and constructive criticism is much appreciated, but flames will be used to light the torches in my dungeon. Please enjoy!

-Lorinda

* * *

_Just breathe, Tash_, she chided herself. It's probably nothing; just another one of those fake contractions that had plagued her less than a week ago. Natasha stretched out as far as she could on the couch she had taken residence on when her fake contractions (they must be fake, she thought to herself) began again at four a.m. Natasha groaned, and then her master assassin's ears picked up footsteps coming down the stairs. Seeing as how the sun had just begun to shine, and she knew her partner well enough to know his sleeping habits on Saturdays, it had to be Coulson. Phil. It was weird of her to think of Coulson as Phil, but seeing as he was Clint's lover, scratch that, fiancé, she thought she would give it a try. "Good morning, Phil." Natasha said in what she hoped was her normally chirp morning greeting. The footsteps stopped, and she could practically see him in her mind looking around for the source of the voice. She raised herself up off the couch just as Coulson completed his circuit. "Oh," the surprise was evident in his voice, "Good morning, Tasha, how are you?" Natasha smiled, and then grimaced as another contraction hit her. "I'm fine," she spit the words through her clenched teeth, "or at least I will be, once I remove this human from my uterus, and maybe Steve's dick from his body." Coulson paled, and rushed toward her. "Oh my god, are you having contractions?" He reached her put the back of his hand on her forehead. Despite his absolute serious intent with the gesture, Natasha had to laugh. "I'm having fake contractions, Phil, not dying of a fever." Phil looked properly ashamed at his lack of medical knowledge. This wasn't his first agent to have a baby, but Natasha was almost like a daughter in a way. Or maybe a sister, since she and Clint were like brother and sister and as he was sleeping with the brother half of the equation, it would make Clint his son and that would be just too weird… yes, sister. Natasha was like a sister to him. And he'd never had a sister in labor before (or even a sister, period). "Natasha, are you sure that they're fake contractions?" The Russian pulled a scowl over her face as she pondered the thought. "Of course they're only fake, Phil, Steve's in Budapest. I am absolutely not having this child until he is at my bedside. Besides, I think I would know if…" Natasha was cut off as a sound registered, one that sounded like a sort of muffled pop! and then the next sound to register was the sound of gallons (or what sounded like gallons) of water hit the bamboo flooring of Stark Tower. Phil glanced at fluids pooled around Natasha's feet, soaking the bottom of the floor-length skirt she wore, and then glanced at her face. It would seem she was sufficiently shocked into silence. "Tony's going to kill you if this stains, you know." Coulson added conversationally, though he was freaking out on the inside. Natasha's head snapped up from the mess on the floor to look at Phil. He could see her eyes were dilated, and a sheen of sweat had broken out over her pale skin. He understood her fear- Phil, Clint, and Natasha hadn't heard from the rest of the Avengers since they'd headed out two weeks ago. No doubt she wanted Steve at her side as they began this new journey into the unknown. After a moment or two of silence, Natasha managed to choke out, "I think the baby's coming, Phil. Oh, where's Steve…?" she moaned the last part. Phil Coulson had worked with Natasha Rogers nee Romanoff long enough to know almost every single detail about her life. As well as being her handler, he was a friend, a father figure. And this was the closest he had ever seen the Russian woman to tears. "Shh, Tasha, it will be okay." He murmured as he wrapped an arm around her waist, to guide her to a chair in the kitchen that bordered the living room. "It will be okay, Steve will be here on time." He sat her down, as the redhead seemed relatively catonic at the moment. He went over to the cupboard, filled a glass with water, and wrapped her hand around it. "Drink this." She did. Phil crouched down so that he and Natasha were eye to eye; taking her non-occupied hand in his, he said in a gentle voice, "I'm going to go wake Clint up now. We're going to get you to the hospital. And I'm going to make a few phone calls so that Steve's ass will be in that delivery room when your child makes its first appearance in the world. Does that sound okay?" She nodded, and added "My hospital bag… It's in the coat closet of Steve and I's apartment. I need that. Otherwise my baby won't have clothes. He or she will have to come home naked." And with that she let out a sob.

Phil had heard legends of pregnant women being emotional over silly things, but throughout her entire 8 month, 3 week and 1 day pregnancy, she had never been overly feeling. Apparently, she really thought they were going to let the first Avenger baby go home naked, and apparently it didn't occur to her that someone could always come back and get it. Phil nodded and lied, "I understand. I'll make sure that the baby has clothes. Do you want me to bring you a new skirt?" After receiving a confirmation, he headed up the stairs to his and Clint's set of rooms, muttering about he was thankful neither he nor Clint would have to go through that if they ever decided they wanted children. Before he stepped up the last stair, he heard her murmur "Just my luck" in both English and Russian.

* * *

"Clint…" Phil's voice intruded into Clint's mind. "Clint…" his lover crooned, "Clint, get up." Phil's voice sang out. Clint smiled, though he was unwilling to leave the wonderful place of dreams and sleep. "Mornin', babe, can't sex wait?" he whined. Phil stood up from where he had crouched next to the assassin and crossed his arms. "It's going to have to, Clint, because Natasha's gone into labor, for real this time. Her water broke."

"It's probably just another fake contra… HER WATER BROKE?! Why didn't you tell me? Oh my god!" Agent Clint Barton of SHIELD started to hyperventilate, as though it were him having a baby. Phil rolled his eyes- Clint was such a drama queen in the morning. "Yes, she's having the baby, and I need you to go get the baby bag out of Steve and Tasha's coat closet in their apartment. If I recall, it's yellow, with elephants on it." When Clint just stood, Phil gave him a shoo motion with his hand, and when Clint ran from the room, he rolled his eyes. Sure, killing people he could handle in stride, but witnessing the process of another human being brought in to this world? Apparently not.

Phil strode across the room to where his phone sat on his bedside table. Dialing a number, he sat on hold for a few moments, vaguely registering Clint's pained "fuck!" and then "JARVIS YOU LET ME IN RIGHT THIS MINUTE TASHA IS HAVING HER BABY AND SHE NEEDS THAT BAG!" He hummed to himself, and then a voice came over the line, "Agent Magnus of Director Fury's office how can I help you?"

"Agent Magnus this is Agent Coulson, I need to speak with Director Fury immediately concerning the Avengers Initiative. It's an emergency."

* * *

Steve groaned as the hot water ran over him. Budapest had been hell- you would think one day crazed madmen would quit trying to take over ancient cities, but apparently that day was not in the foreseeable future. And then there was Natasha. He was so worried- what if she went into labor when he was halfway across the globe? He wasn't allowed any outside contact until he debriefed and stepped off the helicarrier. Just a few more hours, he promised himself, then a nap. He might be a super soldier, but damn it, no one should have to run for 76 hours on only three hours of sleep.

Suddenly, Director Fury emerged from the steam the hot water had created. It was quite the eerie scene, him standing there with his black eyepatch, black cape/cloak thing, black _outfit _with his hands behind his back. "Captain Rogers," his rough voice slow so as not to startle the sleep depreived man, "Captain, Agent Romanoff is in labor. Your presence is requested immediately. I will pretend we have debriefed. You are dismissed." And, without finishing rinsing the shampoo in his hair, he darted into the locker room, hastily toweled himself off and commissioned the private Avengers Jet to get him to Stark Tower, where he could then get a cab.

* * *

Steve burst in the door in the maternity ward, sending it slamming, his shirt buttoned incorrectly and his hair sticking out in every possible direction. "Just on time," he heard Coulson's voice say, "She was nine centimeters along when last checked." Steve walked toward the hospital bed where his Natasha, his fierce, killing Natasha, was wearing a paper-thin hospital gown and clutching the hand of her partner Clint like a life preserver. When Natasha heard the sound of footsteps approaching her, she opened her eyes. "You!" she spit out, lunging to grab Steve's shirt to pull them almost face to face. Gesturing down at her bloated, pregnant body, she hissed, "This is all your fault. You are never touching me ever again." Her hand tightened as she said these words, effectively popping off a few buttons of his shirts. He didn't notice. When she released him, he sat down in a chair that Coulson had placed behind him, and mad a move to grab her left hand. While she glared at him, she didn't pull away when he covered her little hand with his much bigger hands. A nurse came in and checked something, but he didn't notice, for Natasha's face was his entire world at the moment. He finally realized he was being spoken too, and that there was a hand on his shoulder. It was Clint's. "Take care of her, Rogers. Or I will hunt you down and plunge my arrows up your…" his statement was cut off be a scream from Natasha. Clint grinned and squeezed Steve's shoulder. "Well, good luck dude, she's at ten centimeters. We're gonna go wait with the team in the waiting room. See you soon, Daddy." He joked, and walked hand in hand out with Phil.

When the room was empty but for three, he looked around in a daze until he caught the gaze of the nurse. "The doctor will be in here any minute. It's time for Mrs. Roger's to push. Hold her hand, remind her to push, and remind her to breathe." As she finished her sentence, the doctor came in, and everything turned into utter chaos.

* * *

He reminded her to breathe often, to push when the doctor said. After the eighth time, she let go of his hand (for which he was grateful to the sudden return of circulation), and yelled at him, "TELL ME TO BREATHE AGAIN ONE MORE FUCKING TIME YOU ASSHAT AND I WILL PERSONALLY ASSURE YOU THAT YOU WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO HELP THE PROCREATION PROCESS AGAIN!"

He didn't tell her to breathe again. He just told her what a great job she was doing. She never replied, just muttering what he was sure were very horrible curses in Russian.

At 12:32 p.m., on January 23rd, Natasha and Steve Rogers welcomed Penelope Sophia Rogers into the world. As Steve ran out into the waiting room to tell his coworkers, his teammates, his friends that "It's a girl!" there was no hint of nearly 80 hours without sleep on his very, very happy face.


End file.
